“Bud you wean’t go now, sir; it’s close upon two o’clock.”
“Lie down on the sofa, Mrs Slee. I shall be able to wake you when I come back.”
“Theer niver was such a man,” muttered Mrs Slee, as she let him out; “and as for that Sim, well, I’m ommost sorry he did get away.”
As the vicar approached the foreman’s cottage he saw some one cross the lighted window, and on getting nearer he recognised the figure.
“Is that you, Podmore?” he said in a low voice.
“Yes, sir, yes,” was the reply. “I only thought I’d like to know how poor Joe Banks is getting on.”
“I’m going in, and if you’ll wait I’ll tell you.”
“Thank ye, sir, kindly,” said the young man. “I will wait.”
“Poor fellow!” thought the vicar, with a sigh; “even now, when she comes back stained and hopeless to the old home, his love clings to her still. It’s a strange thing this love! Shall she then, and in spite of all, find that I cannot root up a foolish hopeless passion that makes me weak—weak even as that poor fellow there?”
A low knock brought Daisy to the door, and on entering, it was to find Mrs Banks on her knees by her husband, who seemed in a heavy sleep. The doctor had been again, and had only left half-an-hour before.